Isn't that acronym awfully close to NAMBLA

November, along with being National Beard Month (not a real holiday), is National Blog Posting Month or NaBloPoMo for short (not particularly short, also not a real holiday). I had no idea this existed until reading blogs of other bloggers who are participating. A participant is supposed to write a blog post everyday for the month of November. I don’t know what the point is. Is it a celebration of blogging? I guess technically it’s a challenge. I’m thinking about participating mostly because I like a good challenge. I want to see how long I can last. Here’s my dilemma though: I haven’t had a quality post in months. I think I’m out of ideas. Would it really benefit anyone for me to try and force something everyday? Inevitably it would be about 90% crap. Really how many Youtube clips and that’s what she said jokes can anyone stand? Screw I’ll give it a shot. Get ready for a barrage of 200 word posts and stories about what I ate for dinner last night. It’s going to be awesome.

You wouldn't hire a clown to fix the john would you?

National Treasure Robert Goulet passed away today at age 73. Here's my tribute to him:

You wouldn't hire a clown to fix the john would you?

I would like to congratulate the New York Yankees, 2008 American League Champions

The New York Yankees officially sealed up the American League Championship today. The World Series isn’t a lock yet, but let’s face it, they will be playing a National League team so it kind of is. The curse has been lifted. And no I’m not talking about Alex Rodriguez opting out of his contract. It a widely held thought that they could not win with him at third base. Even though he’s a selfish dick, I’m not sure I agree with that, he’s a selfish dick who happens to be able to destroy baseballs; regardless he is not the cursed soul that has been plaguing the Yankees as of late. Today the Yankees announced that they have offered a contract to Joe Girardi to manage the ball club. Along with that announcement it was stated that Don Mattingly, current bench coach and also a candidate to manage the team, will not be returning to the coaching staff. Thus the curse is lifted.

The Yankees lost the 1981 World Series to the Los Angeles Dodgers 4 games to 2. In 1982 Don Mattingly was called up to play first base. He went on to a stellar (all be it injury shortened) 14 year career. Coincidentally the Yankees went on a 14 year World Series and pennant drought. Despite the lack of winning Mattingly was and is one of the most beloved players (and my personal favorite player) ever to put on the pinstripes. And yet I’ve never been happier to see him take them off. The year after his retirement in 1995 the Yankees took down the Atlanta Braves to win their first series in 18 years. This started a run that everyone knows about. 6 World Series in 8 years, their last one being a losing effort to Marlins in 2003. Before the 2004 season Mattingly was hired as the Yankees hitting coach. The team has only eclipsed the first round of the playoffs once in the preceding 4 years. Obviously Don Mattingly is cursed, when you combine his aura with ARod’s you have a recipe for disaster. Or at least a recipe for losing wild card series to the Tigers.

A few hours ago I was unsure of the prospects for success in 2008. Alex Rodriguez opting out is a possible snowball that could mean losing the likes of Mariano Rivera, Andy Pettitte, and Jorge Posada. Now I’m not worried at all, it’s a lock, the black Mattingly cloud has been lifted and soon the sun will be shining down on a last run in Yankee Stadium.

I Think I Might Throw Up

Worst sports weekend ever. What the hell happened.

TWSSF

I'm really glad I invented That's What She Said Friday for a multitude of reasons. Mainly because it's hilarious and a phenomenon that's sweeping the nation. Literally tens of people are tuning each week to find out what she said. The other reason though is because I got nothin'. I mean without this I'd barely ever post. I mean, it's not like a lead an exceedingly boring life. I mean I'm homeless and don't have a car. Things happen, I just rarely find the inspiration to write about it lately. And forget about me coming up with my own ideas, that's not really in my wheel house. I lack the necessary characteristics for that. Namely talent, creativity and writing ability. Maybe my life is boring. I'll tell you what, maybe next week I'll just document each day of the week and leave it up to you, the audience, to decide whether my life is awesome (which I think it is) or boring (which is what you would assume from reading this blog). So look forward to that. Anyway, on to the point of this post, this might be the raunchiest TWSSF ever and I love it. Here goes:

Last Sunday morning a few friends were laying/dying around Mike's apartment after participating in the previous nights Homecoming festivities. I was laying on the floor and Hotmetal/HoOtmetal was sitting in a chair above me swinging a key on a lanyard around his finger when the following conversation ensued:

Me: Hotmetal can you stop doing that, I feel like you're going to let it go on my face and I'm not comfortable with that.
Mike: That's what she said.


I don't like money shots apparently.

Homecoming

Last weekend was homecoming for the Alma mater. I'm always a fan of that weekend, mostly because you get to see a bunch of old friends and pretend like you're in college again. And since college is awesome, that's awesome. I won't bore you with a lot of details, mostly the weekend was spent watching Hotmetal get really drunk and do really stupid stuff with few head exploding conversations mixed in there. Here's a snippet of conversation from lunch Saturday afternoon that I think sums the whole thing up nicely (I'm paraphrasing because my memory is a little foggy, can't imagine why):

Hotmetal: I haven't talked to Biff in a while, I'll have to catch up with that guy sometime.
Val: You were hanging out with him all night last night.
Hotmetal: Oh. I'll have to catch up with him again sometime.

TWSSF

It's Friday, you know what that means. Today is our first ever Celebrity That's What She Said Firday. Bumbling retard John Madden was kind enough to provide us a great TWSS this week.

With 6 secs left in the first half, the Seahawks were about kick a FG. John Madden is talking about the rule that allows the coaches to call timeouts from the sidelines, and he says the following.

"Well they're going to have to change that rule. Because it comes from the back of the kicking team. And I don't like stuff that comes from the back"

Craig and Matt simultaneously said, "That's what she said."

Out, damned spot! out, I say!

The damn apple I was eating this morning shot juice all over my tie. That's going to stain. See what happens when you try and be healthy? I think I'm going back to cupcakes for breakfast.



(I can't really be mad at the apple, it was delicious)

Rogaine for one please

A couple of months ago I was a groomsman in a friends wedding. It was a great time. Yesterday the groom emailed everyone a bunch of pictures from the reception that confirmed that we were all having a great time. While perusing the photo album though I came to two startling realizations that have scarred me terribly:

1. I am awfully unphotogenic (not a word). First of all I have a horrible picture smile. I simply cannot fake a smile. For some reason I seemed to convey the exact opposite emotion, I just look mean. Second, I’m rarely actually looking at the camera. There are a few pictures where the entire wedding party is smiling happily while I’m looking off in the distance scowling at something. It looks like someone just punched my dog in the face off camera. Why do I look so pissed when I smile? I need to work on this problem.

2. I’m balding a rapid pace. It’s one thing to notice a few hairs on your pillow; it’s a whole different ballgame when the bright lights of a camera flash reveal large patches of scalp in a picture. This is awful. I feel like I’m being cut down in the prime of my life. I just turned 27 on Monday and I’ll be bald by 28 without some serious help. I’ll look like a freak show. Seriously, when have you ever seen a red headed bald guy? I’ve been racking my brain to come up with someone and I can’t. I think I might be the first, that’s not a feat I hoped to accomplish. I think it’s time to look into some treatment options, I’m very vain and this would be to big of a blow to the ego to recover from.

A Metaphor of My Life

Frequent, longtime readers of I’ll Think of Something have, more than likely, by now been able to figure out the one overarching theme to my life: I am an abject disaster. Seriously, my life is a mess. Eric Syndrome dominates every facet and I can’t escape its wrath. It is an affliction I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. The most irritating part of it all is that instead of something going seriously wrong I’m just constantly faced with these moments of unpleasantness that may slowly drive me insane. It’s like I have someone poking me in the back of the head continuously until the bore a hole through my skull when it would be much easier for someone to take a baseball bat to my head and put me out of my misery in an instant.

Let my take you through my morning, at that end of this you’re going to think to yourself, “well that was relatively innocuous, stop being such a baby.” What you need to keep in mind is that this wasn’t an aberration; this is an example of the type of thing that happens to me all the time. Anyway, I’ve been staying at a friend’s house for a few days, as a result of living out of a bag, and being absentminded, I find myself unprepared for certain situations. Last night I realized that I had forgotten contact solution. Luckily one of my hosts happened to wear contacts himself and was able to provide me with some, problem solved easily enough. What I failed to realize is that there are two kinds of contact solution. Jason’s brand of choice is the sort that requires an enzyme disc at the bottom of your case to neutralize the chemicals in the solution. Without said disc your eye immediately catches fire upon contact with the contact. At least that’s what it felt like while I was learning this lesson the hard way. My right eye teared up like I was watching Rudy sack the Georgia Tech quarterback while everyone chanted his name, and my eye was bloodshot. I looked like I’d been taking bong hits for three days straight; not a good office look. I frantically tried to remove the fire lens but when you’re going through an eye trauma apparently your body’s natural reaction is to blink furiously. That makes it difficult to remove a contact lens. Fortunately the severe pain went away after about 30-45 seconds. I thought that was the last of it. “That wasn’t so bad,” I thought to myself. I can deal with a few seconds of pain if that’s what it’s going to take to get my contacts in this morning, so I went for the left eye. My assessment was wrong. The pain didn’t just magically disappear in my right eye, what actually happened is that all the blinking popped right lens out of my eye and down the drain of the sink. I was able to figure that out by the fact that my left eye still hurts right now.

Ok so now I have a problem, I have a set of contact lenses that may have just made me legally blind, so I probably shouldn’t try and wear them. Normally this dilemma has a simple solution: I should just where my glasses to work. Um yeah. The thing about that is, remember a few days ago when my girlfriends car was broken into and a bunch of my belongings were stolen? One of those items happened to be my glasses. That plan is out the window. The shattered rear driver’s side window to be exact. On to plan B. I have two week disposable lenses, it’s not a problem to just pop in a new pair right? Oooh, one thing though. Remember that I’ve been homeless for the last two weeks and I don’t really have easy access to anything I own? That includes my contact lenses. Happily my stuff is at Matt’s house, which is in the same neighborhood. Even more happily he is awake when I call him and not heading to work for a little while. Unhappily I can’t drive over there because I have the vision of a fruit bat and would likely pull a Billy Joel and drive into someone’s living room. So I have to walk 2 miles, blindly over to Matt’s at 6:45 in the morning to get new pair of contacts. I have to cross some heavily trafficked roads and all I can barely see cars coming. Somehow I Mr. Magooed myself through traffic and made my way over to his house, but not before walking two blocks too far. Why did I walk two blocks too far? Because the street signs are just high enough on the poles that I can’t read them without glasses. My plan for the morning was to wake up at 6 and be at work by 6:45, thus allowing me to be home from work early enough to enjoy a relaxing afternoon. I didn’t get to work until 8:30, meaning I won’t get home until after 6. I hate my life sometimes.

I do however love the symmetry of it all. Everything comes full circle. You have an event that seems singular and final: some asshole breaks Leslie’s car window and steals my stuff (which is all utterly worthless and useless to them and yet has a very high value to me), a police report is filed, and the window is fixed. You think it’s over right, oh no friend, just when I need a pair of glasses the most this jumps up and bites me in the ass. Then my homelessness comes into play. Seemingly unrelated crappy events affecting other crappy events to make them even crappier, my life is an episode of Lost. Here’s the real kick in the junk of it all though: today is my Birthday. Happy f’ing birthday, at least the day can’t get any worse.

TWSSF

It's That's What She Said Friday, but not just any TWSSF. It's a special TWSSF because today is the birfday of two of our most frequent contributors and loyal readers. Have a happy B day Dave and Amanda, I hope it doesn't suck. That's what she said. Here's an email I got from Leslie this week:

Kristin was feeling like she may be getting sick so during lunch she went over to whole foods to pick up some vitamin C. She came back with a big bottle of these huge green pills. The bottle instructs you to take 6 every 3 hours, which seems ridiculous and lethal.
Not to be deterred, Kristin confirmed "Its ok guys Im really good at swallowing things."
Morgan: "Thats what she said"
To make it even funnier Kristin didnt even hear Morgan because she was too focused on the pill popping. I was just sitting at my desk giggling for a few minutes then Kristin said, "What? What did I say? Ohh Im good at swallowing? I knew that came out wrong." (Ed. Note: I wou'd have added a second TWSS after that last comment, but that's just me.


Working in the field that I do (structural engineering) I come across some fairly hilarious terms. Being extremely immature I often laugh at these terms. An example:
A coworker was on the phone with a client discussing the final plans for some building I don't know anything about when he said, "We're going to have trouble getting it erected." What I heard was, "I'm going to have trouble getting an erection," obviously I found this hialrious. In my head I said, that's what he said. I almost said it out loud but then I thought if I said that it might sound like I was projecting some sort of personnal problem so I tried to think of a way to say it without sounding like I had erectile dysfunction. The best I could come up with was "That's what she hopes he doesn't say." I almost said that but then I thought that would sound like I was trying to hard so I wanted to come up with something better. By then the moment had passed. Moral of the story? I'm a nerd.

Hump Day Indeed!

Are you little bored at work? Maybe feeling a little gloomy? Midweek doldrums have me a little down as well but I know just the remedy to cheer us both up. It's a video of a guy getting raped by a tripod. Enjoy:









One these days soon I'll regain the energy and the desire to write actual posts again instead of this crap. As awesome as that crap is.

Trivia Time!

This is a picture of my leg:




That is seriously the worst scrape I've ever had. I couldn't sleep at all on Saturday because it was ozzing puss everywhere and sticking to the bed. I kept making that teeth sucking noise like Peter Griffin after he banged his knee. So it begs the following question, eshewing comments about how pale and skinny my legs are, how did I hurt my leg?

Your title How did I injure my leg? I got a little overzealous doing tricks on my hog and crashed I slid into a manhole on the street just to prove I was a badass who doesn Someone disrespected my lady, the scrape was an unfortunate side effect to the beating I gave him defending her honor I fell down playing touch football other view results

TWSSF

It's Friday. You know what that means. It's time for another installment of That's What She Said Friday! I know it's pretty lame to not post all week and then come back with this but I'm doing it anyway. I've been busy, get off my back. From Dave, enjoy (he doesn't use capital letters):

short and simple:

my key was kind of jamming in the front door and not unlocking easy, so i sprayed some WD-40 on it and then it worked pretty well.

so i say to my roomate, "it is working better, i lubed it up." and he made the obvious reply "is it thats what she said friday yet?"

and then he used his key and said that he thought it was a little too loose. so my front door is a whore now.

An Apology

In lieu of the usual That’s What She Said Friday I would like to use this time to apologize. You may recall my post on Wednesday in which I referred to karma with a derogatory term. That was a grave mistake that I sincerely apologize for. If I were to give you, my readers, some advice it would be to treat karma with the respect it deserves. Do not temp fate. If you do there will be consequences. For example, let’s say you wrote a blog post and in said post you called karma a bitch, it’s like that less than 2 hours later you will come home from work to find your car windows smashed and all your stuff stolen. Seriously karma? That was cold blooded. It wasn’t even my car. Did you really have to take out my transgressions on my girlfriend’s car just so some bum could steal my stuff? Not cool karma, but I learned my lesson. Again, I apologize for calling you a bitch and now on I will have nothing but the utmost reverence for your awesome power.

That Bitch Got Me Again

On several occasions I have used the plight of our fair cities homeless population as blog fodder. I’m not certain if this makes me a bad person or not, because you can never really know the circumstances of a person’s situation until you talk to them. And I’m rarely in the business of chatting up anyone on the street, much less a homeless man. So I think it might make me a bad person, but really it’s so easy, how often do you see homeless people doing something crazy that you could write 1,000 hilarious words about? It happens to me constantly. Here’s an example: last night I was eating outside at Panera with Leslie, on the corner was a homeless man harassing anyone who walked by. He was really getting in peoples faces, but it was totally working because some guy gave him his leftover PF Chang’s to get him to leave his girlfriend alone. Maybe it’s just me but I would have to be in some real duress to give someone my Chang’s spicy chicken, so I guess his tactics were effective. As he went to hassle someone new he dropped his change cup spilling quarters and nickels everywhere along the sidewalk. The ensuing scramble was one of the saddest things I think I’ve ever seen. The man was pretty frantic to pick up his change and kept trying to get people to stop and help him. I being a bad person found a little amusement out of it though, because the guy was clearly jacked up on some foreign substance. Every time he bent down to pick up a coin he’d wobble and have to brace himself before falling over. Eventually he devised a system where he would spread his legs really wide, then bend over and gather change. Sort of like a tripod, the wider the base the more stable. Ultimately, he recouped his losses and was on his way to enjoy some leftover lettuce wraps and live happily ever after.

The point is normally I would’ve made fun of this guy having no idea whether he deserved it or not. Now though I think karma has jumped up to bite me. You see, as of this week I will be joining the ranks of the homeless I so mercilessly belittle. My lease is up on Sunday, my roommate is moving in with her boyfriend and I am left without a place of my own. Well not really, I’m moving in with a friend who recently bought a house but the room won’t be available for another couple of weeks. So I’m out on the streets. Well not really that either, fortunately I have neither a drug or alcohol problem that has alienated everyone in my life who I could ask for help. I have plenty of friends and a wonderful girlfriend who will keep me from being a total vagrant until I can move in to the new place. But still, I’ll be a nomad living out of a bag for two or the weeks. It’s pretty annoying and it’s definitely my karmic payback for using the homeless for comedic gain. Plus what if this is where it all starts? Maybe this is the beginning of a slippery slope. It starts with me staying in a different house every few days. Then someone says, “Hey why don’t you try some of this crack?” And I’m all, “Sure what’s the worst that can happen?” Then bam, I’m a homeless guy begging for change and getting made fun of by some loser with a blog. That would suck, but at least I’d get some free PF Chang’s every once in a while.

You Have Questions and I Have Answers

To the person who found my blog through the Google search "my knee is swollan and and its all liquid what do i do?" I have to the advice you're looking for. First off I'm going to assume you meant swollen and not some weird slang implying that your knee is swallowing things. It's an easy mistake to make. You're probably experiencing some discomfort that is affecting your typing ability. For starters I'm going to tell you what not to do. Do not go to a doctor. They're totally useless. Only in it for the money. They don't have your best interests at heart like I do. The solution is simple. Just rummage through your junk draw and find that sewing kit you bought a few years ago because the hem came out of your suit pants. Just treat your knee like an abnormally large blister. Take the needle for the sewing kit and pop that bitch. Be careful though, there's probably a lot of pressure built up in there and a small pinhole will cause a pretty powerful spray. If you're worried about staining your shirt and/or wall just use a steak knife instead. You also might want to be on the look out for infections, so you should sterilize your knee stabbing instrument. Simply running it under hot tap water should suffice. After that wrap an ace bandage around that sucker and you should be good to go. You'll playing hockey or wrestling bears or drinking Labatts or whatever else people do in Ontario in no time.

Your Welcome,

Eric

TWSS Friday's Triumphant Return

That's What She Said Friday is back! I missed the last two weeks and was pretty thoroughly berated for it. Sorry for having a job that sometimes gets in the way of you being entertained by juvenile humor. I won't let it happen again. Jerks. I wasn't going to do it again this week because caught some sort of deadly virus on a plane this weekend. Or a cold, either way I feel like crap. Airplanes are cess pools of disease by the way. Especially ones flying between Cleveland and Baltimore. Anyway, on with the festivities.

Here's one I stole from Jake:

Went on a SHA golf outing today. Frank, a 55 year old head of the hydro department, picks up a golf ball and slowly reads the label on it aloud, "Noodle... long and soft". Without hesitation, Denny, a 60 some year old highway designer, blurts out "That's what your wife said." I guess that's the old balls way of saying TWSS.

It's nice to see the forefathers of TWSS still have it.

Next:

For some reason Brian thought it would be a good idea to try and sharpen a Twizzler and use it as a pencil. This process is harder than you think. Also it produces a conversation resulting in no less than 5 top notch TWSSs. I only remember one (Don't forget I'm nearly on my deathbed, it may have caused some sort of neurological damage), here's how it went:

Bingo was trying to sharpen the Twizzler himself but was having a harder time operating the manual pencil sharpener and holding the Twizzler firm enough to be sharpened.

Brian: (Now holding the Twizzler) You get it going and I'll stick it in as hard as I can.
Bingo: (Cranking furiously at the pencil sharpener)
Me: That's what he said.

Yes

Hail to the Redskins!
Hail Victory!
Braves on the Warpath!
Fight for old D.C.!
Run or pass and score -- we want a lot more!
Beat 'em, Swamp 'em,
Touchdown! -- Let the points soar!
Fight on, fight on 'Til you have won
Sons of Wash-ing-ton. Rah!, Rah!, Rah!
Hail to the Redskins!
Hail Victory!
Braves on the Warpath!
Fight for old D.C.!


Can I start getting excited yet?

Hell Yeah!

I often get great enjoyment out of seeing the Google searches that send people to this blog. Some people search for some pretty odd things. My most frequent hits come from folks who want to read the writings from people likeminded in their hatred of birds. That and peeing outside. Apparently I’m one of the leading experts on peeing outside. Today though I received a hit from a Google search that could not make me happier, seriously it’s awesome. According to Google I am the world’s #1 authority on “something badass.” That’s right, perform a search for “something badass” and this blog is the first thing you’ll see. I figure this means one of two things:

1. I am the official last word on all things badass. If you need to know if
you or something around you is in fact badass I’m the one to talk. Or…

2. I’m the biggest badass in the world.

You know what? Strike that, it doesn’t mean on of those two, it’s both of those two. If I get final say on what is badass or not then I say I’m the biggest badass in the world. And if I ‘m the biggest badass in the world then who could possibly be more of an expert on what is or isn’t badass? So for future reference if you ever are on the fence as to whether something is badass or not feel free to email me or leave a comment and I’d be more than happy to provide an answer to your query. Or I might just say f you, because I’m badass and I don’t have to answer your stupid questions if I don’t want.

An Open Letter to The Guy Who Cut Me Off In Traffice This Morning

Dear Guy Who Cut Me Off In Traffic This Morning,

Kudos to you sir on your bold maneuvers through the city streets this morning, I must say you caught me completely off guard. When you were in the far left lane of a six lane road with your left turn signal on, and I pulled up in the lane next to you at the stop light I certainly was not expecting that upon the light turning green you would immediately veer right to try and get in my lane totally cutting me off and nearly sideswiping me. You gave me the old okey doke, fake left, go right. That gets me every time. Even more unexpected was your incredulous hand gesture you gave me when I honked my horn to prevent you from driving directly into my fender. Apparently I’m the asshole for be in the path of your insanely erratic driving. I apologize, next time I’ll be sure to yield for people driving diagonally across the flow of traffic. I should’ve known better. It got even better though when you decided you did in fact want to make that desired left turn a few blocks later. The only problem was that it came from the right lane of the intersection thus adding the driver of a large SUV to the list of people who had nearly t-boned you this morning. Unfortunately he made the same mistake as I did in thinking that you were at fault. Although I would have to side with him on this matter. Based on a very small sample size it seems as though 20 out of every 60 seconds you spend on the road you’re being honked at. This should be a sign to you. Perhaps you need to reevaluate things. Maybe take another drivers’ education course. Or take more taxis. It seems to me that the only reason you’re still alive is because of the safe driving of the people around, which obviously you don’t realize because you drive with your eyes closed. I hope you can take my advice to heart, no one to see flying through a windshield one day.

Sincerely,

Eric

Criminals Aren't Smart Sometimes.

Last weekend was somewhat disorienting for me. I guess it was the extra day but really the whole weekend seemed strange. It really feels like it was much longer than three days. Probably because I had a horrendous hangover on Sunday. You know the kind of day when you’re really hung over and you don’t get out of bed until the late afternoon, but that later that night you’re feeling better so you end up doing something and it feels like it was two separate days? That was my whole weekend I think. As a result it’s really thrown me off my blog game. I’m out of sorts. It’s a combination of things: I can’t think of anything to write, I don’t feel like writing about things I could write about (like how I went Maryland State Fair on Friday and it was the trashiest most awful/awesome thing I’ve ever seen, really I highly recommend it), and I don’t really know what day it is.

I decided to troll around my usually news sites this morning to see if there was anything I felt the need to comment on. Luciano Pavarotti died; I figured I could write something funny about that. You know, something along the lines of: What a shocker, didn’t see that one coming blah blah blah. Make a joke about cannolis or meat sauce or something. Basically the standard Pavarotti is fat joke. Then I saw he actually died of pancreatic cancer, not something related to his morbid obesity. Also it’s in poor taste and not that funny to make fun of dead people. Or fat people. Especially internationally beloved dead, fat people. I’m a dick.

I thought I might just give up. Put up a TWSSF post tomorrow and call it a week. Then I ran across this gem. A man shot himself in the leg fleeing the scene of a robbery inside RFK stadium. There are just so many great parts of this story. Apparently when security half-assedly (it’s a word) waves those wands around my crotch their doing absolutely nothing to ensure my safety because this dude didn’t seem to have a problem getting a gun past them. Clearly he isn’t some criminal mastermind who devised an ingenious scheme to get a gun on the premises for the sake of a robbery because he attempted to rob a vendor ON THE FIFTH FLOOR. Seriously, the top floor of the stadium is where you decide to stage this daring raid? Not the first floor so you can run right outside and get away. Not to mention that’s the upper deck. Where the poor people sit. Who’s buying more $9 personal pizzas; the people fighting a nose bleed a mile high in the bleachers or the people in the box seats? I’ll grant you one reprieve, there’s probably less security on that floor, but you still have to run past the security on all the other floors. Although based on their previously stated wanding skills it’s probably not shocking that you managed to make it outside before they caught you. Maybe you thought this out better than I thought robber. I just wish I was there to see the chase. Imagine how hilarious it was watching them wind back and forth down those ramps. It’s like a high speed chase down a spiral staircase.

Now about the gun. Clearly the plan was to ditch it when you were outside the stadium. My advice to you sir, ditch it before shooting yourself in the leg. Running is hard with a gunshot wound.

Here’s another query I have: why travel from Baltimore to robbed a stadium in D.C.? There’s a stadium in Baltimore as well. I’ve been there, it’s nice. Also, you know those security guards they have at RFK pretending to care if you bring a gun in? Well they don’t even have those in Baltimore. Its fool proof, not even the slightest chance getting caught before you pull off the robbery. Plus instead of hopping fences and shooting yourself in the leg you could just run home, kick your feet up, and count your money. All in all I’d say that was a pretty awful plan. My favorite part of this article though was the last sentence. Thanks for mentioning the Nats won, that’s just icing on the cake.

TWSSF

I'm actually extremely busy at work today which is really rare. I have a ton of work to do before I leave at three for the weekend. You think that's stopping from posting That's What She Said Friday? Hell no. My dedication is unparalleled. Not my dedication to my job mind you, my dedication to you, the readeres. On with it:


Her's one from frequent contributers Kenny and Amanda:

Its game night with the work crew. Everyone is sitting there, relatively silent as one game changes to the next. Across from me is one Mr. Kim Robinson...he's trying to take a sip through a straw of his frozen daquari and he's just not having the success he wants.

Kim: Man, I can't get this up
Amanda (looks around to see who is within ear shot): That's what she said.
All: Laughter, snickering and some questions about "who is she?"


Also frequent contributor Mike added to his frequent contributions:

One of my fellow nerd poker players had these gourmet stuffed olives and offered me one, so I tried to get one out of the jar without sticking my whole hand in. I was basically using one finger and trying to roll one up the side of the jar. She saw my unsuccessful attempts at obtaining the olive and said "What are you doing? Use two fingers!" And well, you know what I said next otherwise I wouldn't be writing you this email.


I had a good one this week also! Here it goes:

Leslie: (trying on headbands) I wish this was a little tighter.
Me: That's what he said.

Boo ya. See how I switch that up on you guys. That's what he said is really advanced, only an expert like myself can pull something like that off.

Big Day

I would like to personally like to congratulate some dude (or lady) from England for being the 15,000 person to vist my blog. It's quite a milestone, this must be a very big day in your life. Cheers (or whatever an English person would say in this situation).

The Queen of Mean

I was only 8 years old when Leona Helmsley was a big news story. All I remember is she served some time in jail for tax evasion and that she was kind of a bitch. She earned the nickname "Queen of Mean" for her horrible treatment of everyone around her. Well she just died and apparently she is a much bigger bitch than anyone thought. $12 million to your dog. You're fucking dog. Not the person you left your dog to, your dog. That is the about the dumbest thing I've ever heard. I grew up with dogs, I loved them, but if I died before them I would just have to hope a relative took good care of them and called it a life. I certainly wouldn't be leaving an money to them. You know they can't spend in right? Not only do they lack the ability to communicate, the don't even have opposable thumbs to hold money with. And on top of that you leave half of your grandchildren nothing? Seriously? Oh, I'm a billionaire but I'm going to screw over my grandchildren for life. Why you ask? They know what they did. What did they do? Kill you? Because that's the only thing I can think of that would be a good reason to stick to them like that.

Thank you Miss South Carolina, we are all a little bit dumber now

This link was sent to me courtesy of Brian



I can't wrap my head around that enough to be snarky. That is simply the dumbest thing I've ever heard.

Advice on love

Dear person who came my blog via the google search "Help I'm in Love With a Homeless Dude",

I can only assume you came here seeking council on matters of the heart, and let me tell you, you came to the right place. Not only am I an expert on love, I'm also an expert on homeless people. First off though I have to ask, why the despondent tone? You sound as if you feel this is some sort of forbidden love that should go unrequited simply because this person doesn't have a home, or job, or the ability to say no to drugs. I say that hogwash. The heart wants what the heart wants and you should never deny it that. But I would recommend going into this relationship with a slight sense of trepidation. Don't get caught up paying every time you guys go on a date. And sometimes insist on sleeping in the streets with this person. It's the only way to know they're in it for the right reason and not simply because you have food and shelter. You not in this for charity, you're in it for love. But in summation I say go for, tell this Homeless Dude about your feelings and enjoy the rewards.

You're Welcome

Eric

TWSSF

It's friday, you know what that means, it's time to let everyone else do the work for me with That's What She Said Friday! Lets get to it.

This weekend I was in New York with Mike and Leslie. We stayed with Mike's cousin Brian, who is not exactly a TWSS connoisseur. He hasn't quite grasped the joke, but he tries and that's what really matters. On Saturday we were coming out of the subway, Brian in the lead, when we ran into a homeless man who said "Got any change you can spare?"

To which Brian's response was, "That's what she said."

I think the homeless guy was a little befuddled because he then said, "Who's she?"



Here's one of the raunchy TWSSs you'll hear. Matt has a coworker who has been fighting a cold all week. He decided to battle through the cold and have some spicy food lunch which he described thusly, "It's kind of hot going down my throat." Matt didn't choke this time and actually provided the appropriate response. I'm glad you're learning the importance of That's What She Said in our society Matt.


Here's a submission from Dave:

a couple of my eletrical sockets stopped working tonight, so my roomate and linds (Ed note: Dave's fiancee) and i are trying to fix them. we end up hitting the reset button and it works. i said, oh yeah, thats what i sometimes have to do the socket outside for the sump pump. if it gets too wet, i need to stick my finger under it and hit the button.

my roomate replies...

That's What She Said (Ed. Note: Well played Dave's roommate)

I finally found the secret!!!

- Like most bloggers I’m obsessed with my blog stats. It’s pretty sad; I check them like 10 times a day (and by 10 I mean at least 400). Every time I post I get a small spike in readers thanks to the DCBlogs live feed. Yesterday I experienced a much larger spike and I think I may have discovered the secret to increased blogularity. The Holy Grail if you will. It’s all in the title. Yesterday’s said something about hipsters, people in DC either are hipsters or they hate them, so they clicked on the link. From now on I think I might only use titles people will find provocative. Here are some examples:
- DC cops suck
- I hate the f’ing metro
- Missed Connections anyone?
- What LNS is up to this week

People will be so intrigued they can’t stay away. Only to be disappointed by what lame crap I’m writing about now.



- Speaking of blog stats, I just looked at Technorati for the first time ever. I see it everywhere but I was much too lazy to care what it was until today. Apparently I have the 876,860th most popular blog. Boo yah.



- I know that no one likes to hear about someone else’s dream but I’m going to tell you anyway. It’s relevant, you’ll see. I dreamed I was in Transformers the movie last night. I don’t remember a lot of the details, I never do, but it doesn’t matter anyways because I’ve never seen the movie so I don’t really know how accurate they would be. And I hate Shia Lebeouf. It was a surprising vivid dream considering it was totally drawn from a 30 second trailer. Anyway, in that dream a lot of people are dying, I didn’t but Transformers were eating my friends left and right. It was gruesome. Well when my alarm went off this morning guess which song was playing? No, it wasn’t the theme from Transformers, that would be way too obvious. It was “Only the Good Die Young” by Billy Joel. Isn’t that freaky? All my friends were dying. They’re good. They’re young. Uncanny. That type of stuff happens to me all the time. I might be Harry Potter and not know it.

Fun with Hipsters

Here's a fun thing to do. Next time you're in New York, and you find yourself in a bar with a bunch cool kids listening to some cool kid indie rock music throw them a curve ball. Go up to the jukebox and play the most cheesetastic 80's ballad you can think of (I chose Air Supply's "Making Love Out of Nothing at All") then sit back and enjoy. Watch as they scoff at the new selection. Clearly they're much to cool for that. Then notice a few people singing, and then by the time the first refrain hits everyone is loving it because who doesn't love Air Supply. It brings people together, even if they are to cool for school.

I'm going out of town for the weekend so I'm taking tomorrow off. So essentially that makes today my Friday. You know what that means? It's That's What She Said Friday! On a THURSDAY! This is like The Matrix or something. I just blew my own mind.







This weeks TWSS comes from Mike and Tony. Mike as has been documented was on the forefront of TWSS awesomeness, Tony is a relative newcomer. It involves an epic, unprecedented TWSS triple. Enjoy:


Backstory: Tony is a former officemate of Mike's in grad school. He's an avid fan of both the Office and baseball. They were at a Nats game.

Tony (half way through an Italian sausage, looks up with a smirk): This sausage is huge, I'm having trouble fitting my mouth around it.
Mike: That's what she said.
Tony: That was like T-ball.
Mike: Yeah, as soon as you turned your head I knew something was coming... (brief pause) That's what she said.
Tony: Nice self set-up.
Mike: Sometimes you have to do that.
Tony: Yeah, now that you aren't there any more, I'm forced to do it in the office.
Mike: That's what she said.

I need like tree fitty

I write a lot about homeless people in this forum. I’m really sure why, they just sort of fascinate me. And a lot of them a crazy and therefore hilarious. I always find myself curious of there circumstances, I want to know how they ended up where they are today. I never ask because it seems rude to a homeless dude what happened to his home, but still I’m curious. For example on my walk to work most mornings I see a couple spooning in a little alcove in a building and I think to myself, where the dating before become homeless and if so how did two people find themselves on the streets simultaneously? Couldn’t one of them have gotten there life together for the other? Or did they meet while being homeless? If that’s the case it’s someone heartwarming to know that two people can find love anywhere. Or maybe they’re not in love; they’re just keeping each other warm. Which is still sort of sweet I guess. But it’s hot as hell here so I think they must be in love. Only two people who really love each other could stand to spoon while sweating profusely. Anyway, the point is I’m curious about these people.

There is another man I see everyday that I have a lot of questions about. My house is about 200 yards from a large intersection. It gets very busy during rush hour, and everyday for close to a year this guy walks between the cars stopped at the red light with a sign, panhandling. I’ve never given him any money because it didn’t take long for me to realize that he’s making a pretty solid living. The guy has to make at least $8-$10 an hour. Some Walmart employees would be pissed if they knew about this guy. Also he never asked me, which I find sort of insulting. Do I look like some dick who wouldn’t give you any change? I mean I wouldn’t, but still. This man changes his clothes a couple times a week. Where does he keep his clothes? Granted he’s still not the cleanest guy in the world, and you can still usually tell he doesn’t bath regularly, but the ability to pick what outfit you want to wear to take advantage of the kindness of strangers that day puts you a step above your average beggar. From time to time I’ve seen him taking a break from begging for snack time. He takes a stroll down to Royal Farms for some yum yums to treat himself for a hard days work. And I wonder, when you’re homeless why go for the Goldfish and Oreo Cookies? Wouldn’t you want a turkey sandwich or something? Perhaps some protein or carbohydrates so you don’t, you know, die of malnutrition? I was always a little skeptical about whether he was actually homeless or not because of these things but yesterday removed a lot of doubt. I was walking downtown and I saw the same guy. I guess he had just gotten off of work at his corner and was taking a stroll. I was like oh hey, that’s that homeless guy, what’s he doing down here. Then I noticed something odd on his belt (some might even find it odd that he was wearing a belt but whatever). I glanced down and he had a cell phone clipped to his belt. I was stunned. First of all I always thought this guy seemed pretty cool, clearly he’s not because everyone knows cell phone belt clips are super lame. Second of all, how the f does a homeless guy have a cell phone? And who is he calling? And don’t any of those people have a couch he can crash on. I was pretty pissed that this guy goes out begging for people’s hard earned money and somehow affords a cell phone. Then this morning I saw him rocking a discman. This was equally as galling. Batteries are expensive and he’s homeless, which means he has to be bored a lot so I’m sure he wears them out often. If this guy ever asks me for money I’m punching him in the balls.

Badass?

This person is either the least observant person in the world or has the highest pain tolerance known to man. I'm imagining a conversation going something like this:

Group of motorcyclists pulls up to a stop light

Biker #1: Um dude, I just picked up half of your leg off of the road back there, you want it?

Biker #2: (bleeding profusely) What? Oh man. I don't know if you saw but I ran into that barrier a couple miles ago. I felt a little sting, but son of a bitch if my leg didn't fall off.

Biker #1: You want to maybe go to a hospital or something.

Biker #2: That might be a good idea. Passes out

Poppin' Collars

Nice window display Baby Gap. Do these shirts come with free admission to lacrosse camp? Seriously though, if I wanted to raise a litter of douche bags I don't need your double polo popped collar look, I'll just join the Republican party.

TWSS

I can tell by the literally tens of people flooding my stat tracker this morning that That's What She Said Friday is a bona fide phenomenon. The readers love it, I love it, Dwight Schrute loves it. I must provide a disclaimer though; My inbox has been blowing up all week with reader submissions, which is kick ass. Unfortunately I can't use them all because I'm just to lazy to compile everything together. I mean, really it's a lot of work. So if you don't see yours don't take offense, it doesn't mean you're not awesome, it just means that someone might have been awesomer this week. Anyway, on to it:

First up today is from Aaron, who was playing golf this Saturday with his girlfriend Sarah and her father when the following exchange occured:

sarah's dad: "you've really got to stick it in there stiff"
sarah: "that's what she said"


Next is from frequent TWSSF contributor Amanda and her sister Jeanine, who is best described as an avid reader and loyal fan. They were making a scrapbook for their younger sister Sarah which lead to this:

Jeanine: I have to say, it's much better doing this with someone than
having to do it all by myself
Calvin: That's what she said.


And one final TWSS for this week courtesy of my broseph. I'll let him tell you in his own words:

Maybe this doesn't apply because she actually said it, but I laughed and so I thought I'd share.

This was a conversation about roller coasters Sunday night. I don't how it started. Doesn't matter.

Jennifer: We went to Busch Gardens and rode the Griffon.......blah, blah, more story

Kessley: I hate roller coasters! (proceeds to tell lengthy story detailing traumatic childhood event). I don't understand what you like about them? Is it the feeling that you somehow survived something scary and dangerous?

David (that's me): It's just an adrenaline rush. There's no fear involved.

Josh: I hate them too. Jennifer makes me ride them.

Ashley (who, to this point, had contributed nothing to the conversation): You can put me on anything and I'll ride it!

Kessley, Josh, and Jennifer: silence

Well, you know the rest.......I couldn't resist the TWSS




Hope you enjoyed it, keep the submissions coming and I'll keep mailing it in on Fridays for your enjoyment.

Damn That Jeff

I’m what you would call a morning person. I rarely hit the snooze button. I don’t have a wrong side of the bed. I’m generally wide awake as soon as the buzzer sounds and usually in a decent mood. My disposition is rarely negatively effected by a mornings events. However there are certain things that can happen that will leave me in a great mood for an entire day. Sometimes I wake up to a good song and find myself dancing in bed before I even wake up. Sometimes I go to bed thinking the Yankees lost and get a pleasant surprise in the morning. And then sometimes I wake up and turn on the TV and receive this special treat:



Are you kidding me? Tell me you could ever be in a bad mood after watching Zach and Kelly in quite possibly the worst acted, worst written break up scene of all time. Even better than that, the background music is being provided by Jessy and Slater lip syncing a Michael Bolton song. I was dying and am still laughing now. Thank you Saved By the Bell, you made my day.

Awesome Things About Baltimore

Yesterday I was running through Federal Hill. It was hot. And humid. Near the end of my run I passed a man sitting on his stoop who was somewhat overweight (and by somewhat overweight I mean he was pushing 400lbs). He had a hat on that said "I heart Intercourse" and was spraying a hose at the tree in front of his house. Now I'm not a botanist but I'm pretty sure that a tree absorbs water and nutrients through its roots and spraying a tree trunk with a hose for 20 minutes is completely useless. I could be wrong, but thats beside the point. The point is this guy got my inner monologue going. I saw him and started thinking about the way I approach my life. Here I am busting my ass, it's like 113 degrees and 1000% percent humidity, and for what. He is totally relaxing without a care in the world. Is it really worth it to work out 5 or 6 times a week when all I really have to do is let myself go, sit on my stoop smoking a few parliments hosing down a tree, and wear clothing declaring my love for vaginal penetration (actually I think it was promoting a town in Pennsylvania but I knew what he really meant) and I will be hands down the sweetest guy in Baltimore. I think it might be time for some changes.

That's What She Said Friday

It’s That’s What She Said Friday! This week was a really tough one. I had two excellent choices; I went back and forth all morning over which selection would make cut. Eventually I came to the decision that you guys have been really good this week and deserve a special treat. It’s a That’s What She Said double feature!

The first one comes from my friend Pat. He’s an architect, but he also happens to be an AutoCAD specialist. I’ve seen his work, it’s stellar. As a result of being better at AutoCAD than everyone else he often gets annoying requests for help from his coworkers. Enjoy the following exchange:

Co-worker- "yo...can you save that rendering on the network for me?"
Pat - frustrated because this happens a lot "fine...tell me where to save it?"
Co-worker- with an equally frustrated tone back to me "i don’t care...just put it wherever you want..."

...PAUSE...

Pat - "that’s what she said..."

BSSC is the organization that runs the social sports leagues in Baltimore (you know, where my friends and I win all the championships, except for softball this year, I don’t want to talk about it). Matt works for BSSC on the side refereeing football and volleyball, and being an official for softball and kickball. During softball season his job is to set up the fields before the games and then walk around making sure no chaos ensues. This week he was installing the bases on a field (which are held in by metal stakes driven into the dirt) with Becca when this conversation took place:

Becca - Let me show you a trick.
Becca – You have to find the hole before you hammer it in.
Matt - ---snickering---
Matt - ……
Matt - ….

He didn’t say that’s what she said. Can you believe that? What a wasted opportunity. Matt, I don’t even know you anymore.

I still hate birds

On Tuesday I ran home quickly to put on some gym clothes and grab something for work on Wednesday before heading over to Leslie’s. While inside I noticed a bird singing. It seemed awfully close. At first I thought it was my arch nemesis from the tree outside my window. Upon further inspection though I surmised that it was coming from another room. Assuming that Leanne had left the window open in her room and that’s where the noise was coming from I didn’t give it another thought and left for the night.

Yesterday I came in the apartment and went straight to the kitchen to put away some groceries. When I got to the refrigerator a bird swooped down to attack me, just missing by my head. Judging by the fact that I may have soiled myself a little bit I was pretty sure it was some sort of falcon, or maybe a bald eagle. Either way it was definitely a huge bird and it scared to poop out of me. Turns out it was one of these:

I'm a huge pussy apparently


He flew into a corner behind the microwave and the chase was on. Cut to me in a sitcom chasing a tiny bird around my house with a bucket. That little bastard was fast, and really stupid. He just kept flying back and forth from corner to corner trying to hide, and I could never reach him. He ran into the window at least three times and never noticed the gaping hole of freedom that was the open door. Finally I had to use all of my genius and cunning to solve this problem. I got him into a corner directly across from the door, then using the couch, an armchair and some cushions I created a tunnel leading right out. Once I scared him out of that corner he had no choice but to head for the door. I’m like the MacGyver of getting birds to not be in your house.

A brief update on Operation: F U Matt and Jake...

I ran 7 1/2 miles on Saturday in just under an hour. On Sunday my leg hurt. Not a good sign. That is all.

Can't complain about this...

Thanks for the shout out Express.

TWSS Friday

It's Friday. You know what that means. Today is our first ever reader submitted "that's what she said." That's right, I take reader submissions so feel free to hit me up email style and you'll be considered for this prestigious honor. On with it:

Amanda was trying to figure out how to use a flash drive for her computer.

Amanda: Where do I put this thing?
Kenny: You have to put it in the back.
(Dramatic Pause)
Kenny: That's what she said.

I wish.






PS TWSSF needs a logo, if anyone is bored and knows how to do that kind of thing have at it. I'll totally use it. The more Micheal Scott/Dwight Schrute the better.

So me and my blog are in a little bit of a blogument right now. You might say I'm in the bloghouse. You see, I totally forgot our one year blogiversary last Sunday. I know, I'm such an a hole. I tried to explain but the blog wasn't having any of it. I said, "I'm sorry blog, I've really had a lot on my mind lately, things have been real stressful at work." Which is all a lie but whatever. I said, "I'll make it up to you baby, I promise." I'm pretty sure you're suppossed to write a flowery post about how much you've grown over the last year and how much you appreciate all your readers and commenters but my blog doesn't want to hear it. Oh well, I'll just have to write some funny posts, get my stats up for a week or two and me and blog will be like peas and carrots again. Then maybe next year I'll remember my blogiversary.

Cracker Barrel

I went to Cracker Barrel last weekend. Let me give you a review. It’s awesome. I grew up in the south, and while I wouldn’t exactly say I had a very southern upbringing when I go to a place like Cracker Barrel I like to get a pretend feeling of nostalgia for the simpler times when mom rang the dinner bell and the whole family sat down at the table for a southern style home cooked meal. In reality though my mom is Irish, we ate a slab of meat and potatoes most nights, and most of the time I ate it while watching TV or playing Nintendo. But it’s nice to pretend. Also Cracker Barrel is easily the most hilarious restaurant you’ll visit. There are never less than 1,500 people waiting to be seated at a Cracker Barrel. Which is ironic because they are always in the middle of nowhere. I’m fairly certain if you’re town eclipses the 2,000 citizens mark you’re automatically banned from having a Cracker Barrel. It’s mainly tour buses full of old people and church type groups. I love this because if you’ve ever been a waiter you know that these are some of the absolute worst costumers to deal with. If you’re a patient person who doesn’t mind slow service you can just sit back and enjoy the scene. If you pay close attention you’ll notice that the entire staff always seems to be muttering as the walk away from a table. There all about more request for extra biscuits away from shooting up the place. Anyway, you’d think that the perpetual 40 minute wait would discourage you from going there, but you’re wrong friend. Cracker Barrel has you covered. Take a load off in one of the rocking chairs on the front porch and play some checkers. If you have bat ears you might even be able to hear them call your name over the “loud” speaker. If checkers doesn’t suit your fancy you can have a look around the general store. There you can find an amazing selection of denim shirts. I personally took this opportunity to purchase about 30 lbs. of “old fashioned” candy for approximately 45 cents. It was quite a deal. As I type I’m enjoy some of my Gilliam Old Fashioned Wild Cherry Drops.

The food here is spectacular. Everything is fried. You can’t go wrong with frying something. If you cut out a hunk of my ass, slathered it in buttermilk, flour, and bread crumbs I’m pretty sure I would eat it and love it. Fortunately I didn’t have to do that because Cracker Barrel has a fine selection of fried animals. I went with the chicken fried chicken. Perhaps a redundant title but who cares, smothered in gravy it’s delicious. Can someone answer me a question? Why do we bother with fine dining when I can get chicken fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, apple sauce, cornbread, biscuits, and a lemonade for like $6? Anyone?

There was one thing that concerned me though. I think they might be taking the southern theme a little too far. The dining room was basically separated into three equal sections. We were seated the back third and couldn’t help but notice we were in the minority. Not only were all the black people seated in the same section in the back, but they were being waited on by the only black waitresses in the restaurant. Coincidence? I’ll let you decide.

That's What She Said

It's That's What She Said Friday! Let's get to it. My friend Brian was recently married. Early this week he was discussing his ring, specifically how it fit. The follow is a snippet of that conversation.

Brian: I really have to work it to get it off.
Me: That's what she said.

Indeed!

Thoughts

Just a few thoughts I've had recently:

-Headline writers have to be absolutely elated with Mike Vick's indictment. I mean imagine the pun possibilities. Their heads are on the verge of exploding just thinking about it. ESPN.com has already changed their headline three times today. All dog/dog fighting related puns. I’m totally giddy in anticipation of how hilarious this trial will be. (Also, who fights dogs? What a dick.)


-Please click on this link and read the lyrics to T-Pain’s Buy U A Drank. Seriously how is this song a hit? These might be the worst lyrics ever written. “We In The Bed Like Ooh Ooh Oh, Ooh Ooh.” Those are the words to a song. For real. You know it’s awful when you can legitimately say that Yung Joc blew T-Pain out of the water with his verse. How do you even get a record contract with this incredible lack of talent? Oh wait, I remember, T-Pain is the genius behind the classic hit “In Love Wit’ a Stripper.”

-I bet a friend on Saturday that the Yankees would make the playoffs. They are 3-0 since the bet and I remain confident in this bet, obviously my confidence has brought them confidence. Before and during the all-star break there was a lot of talk about what percentage baseball the Yankees would have to play to catch the Sox and how it was nearly impossible. Well as the season stands today, if the Red Sox were to win 95 games they need to win games at a .550 clip (the equivalent of an 89 win season). The Yankees would have to win a little under 68% (a 109 win season) of their games to keep up with that pace. While that would be an amazing pace to keep for an entire season (which the Yankees have done by the way) I don’t think it’s even remotely out of the realm of possibility for them to do it over the second half. And it would not be much of a drop off at all for the Red Sox to play .550. Oh and when they go 18-5 in their next 23 games (all against 5 of the worst 7 teams in the AL) then they only need to play .625 the rest of the year to reach 95 wins. It’s going to happen.

-Is the Who’s Now? competition on ESPN not the worst idea ever? I call it a competition for lack of a better word. I guess what it really is a way for ESPN to kill 10 minutes on Sportscenter so they aren’t forced to show WNBA highlights. How doesn’t hate this idea though? Who’s more now Dale Earnhardt Jr. or Chuck Liddell? Kobe Bryant of Ronaldinho? Tony Parker or Roger Federer? Who gives a shit? What does Now even mean? Even writers on ESPN are making fun of this. I bet the people who green lighted this idea are already fired. Everyone thinks it is dumb and yet they are forced to run it for another month because it would look worse to abandon it midway.

That's What She Said

Many years ago, long before Michael Scott of The Office brought it to such prominence in the lexicon of young people everywhere, my friend Mike (who I just realized as I’m typing this has the middle name Scott, making him Michael Scott, that’s pretty kick ass) and I decided that “that’s what she said” is just about the funniest joke ever. It juvenile, it doesn’t require a tremendous amount of wit, it is rarely appropriate and it makes me laugh almost every time. Now that the joke is approaching it’s apex in popularity, and nearly everyone I know is a huge fan of The Office, my friends have it down to a veritable art form. A conversation seldom goes more than a few minutes before someone making even the most vague innuendo is punctuated with a “that’s what she said.”

Today I decided that I needed a weekly feature for my blog. Everyone loves a good feature; it’s something to look forward to. Also it allows me to mail it in once a week. It is in this vein that I am creating That’s What She Said Friday. Each week I will present to you, the reader, the very best “that’s what she said” my friends have produced that week. Since I just thought of this and haven’t been mentally cataloging jokes for the week I’m going to dig into the “that’s what she said” archives to tell you about my favorite of all time. Here it is:

I’ll preface this one by saying Leslie doesn’t particularly enjoy “that’s what she said” as much as everyone else I know. I think it kind of annoys her how often I say it, which is what makes this one so great. She had come over to my house to pick me up to go out to eat. She parallel parked a little to close to the curb and I couldn’t open the door far enough to get in the car. The following exchange occurred:

Me: (cracking the car door) Um, I think you’re going to have to pull out.
Leslie: (faintly as I’m closing the door) That’s what she said.


There you have it, that’s the kind of magic you can be expecting on a weekly basis from now on. You’re welcome.

I might start trying again

My blog has really been shitting the bed lately. When I say my blog I literally mean my blog, not myself. I also mean figuratively, not literally. It’s obviously the blogs fault not my own. I’m still leading my usual active, fascinating lifestyle. I’m rife with interesting things to write about but my blog isn’t doing its job. Which is to inspire me to write the stories down. I sit down to write and then get distracted by other things, like being outside, or tv, or not writing a blog post. Here’s a brief list of things that you, the reader, have missed out on in the last two weeks or so because I’ve been to lazy to post:

-I saw a man spit on a little kid on the sidewalk because the kid smiled at him.

-A bird pooped on Leslie while we were out to dinner.

-I spent a weekend in Ocean City. Good stories always come out of that.

-Two good friends got married in North Carolina last weekend. Weddings are the
best, this one was no exception.

Those are just a few examples of fodder I’ve wasted. Hell, today someone handed me a free Monster Energy drink after lunch, old Eric could’ve cranked out 1,000 words on how disgusting that was alone. I’m not really sure what the problem has been. I’ve been really busy at work, but let’s face it, that never stopped me before. I think it’s just a general malaise. Who wants to write a blog post when it’s 103 degrees outside? The act of typing in itself it’s just too exhausting. But I think it’s time to rededicate myself for two reasons. The first being that I no long have a lot of work to do at work, so I’ve got some time to kill. The second one being that my one year blogging anniversary is coming up and I can’t have that go by through such a downswing. Do people even still read this anymore? Who knows.

People in Maryland have such a huge boner for Cal Ripken. What would the states indentity be without him? If you took away the Ravens, Ripken, and crabs I feel like most of Maryland would be walking around like zombies.






P.S. Somewhat real post coming later in the day potentially. I'm back bitches.

Hockey is goof for something I guess

Courtesy of Bill Simmons, the most kick ass brawl I've ever seen:





PS I know it's pretty lazy to post a Youtube video when I haven't posted anything in a week, but it's no secret, I'm very lazy.

Do I know you?

How did Lelia@Viagra_Soft.com become one of my contacts?

Ideally I wouldn't be working.

There's no such thing as an ideal day that involves me going to work, but if there were an ideal work day today would definitely fit that description. It starts with me sleeping in and showing up for work at least an hour later than normal. My office has pretty flexible work hours; generally you can show up whenever you want as long as you put in 9 hours (including an hour lunch break). I like to be home early so I usually work from 7-4. Today we have a mandatory “all hands” meeting at 4. Which means everyone stops work at for to listen to the boss talk for 20 minutes then the day is over. Well if I can show up to work whenever I want (within reason of course) and it’s mandatory that I stop working at 4, why the hell wouldn’t I just get to work at like 8:30 ensuring that I have a free 6 and a half hour work day? Well I would, and I did, so things are off to a good start. Then during my shortened work day the majority of my department is in meetings all day. Meaning there isn’t really anyone to looking over my shoulder. Meaning I’m “working” at a pretty leisurely pace this afternoon. 2 for 2 so far. “All hands” meetings are always immediately followed by an office happy hour. Of course happy hour with your coworkers usually is the lamest species of happy hour but free beer and food is something that should never be turned down. And while the flip cups tournaments in the conference room don’t happen anymore (some sort of liability issue, the boss I are going to have to agree to disagree on this matter I guess) I have some pretty enjoyable colleagues and we also have a balcony ringing our office about 25 stories up with a great view of the harbor so it’s a pretty enjoyable setting, it’s usually not a bad time, so 3 for 3. The next step in this idyllic summer work afternoon would be to walk from happy hour over to the Camden Yards will call to pick my tickets to our free luxury suites one of our friends manage to procure. 4 for 4. 2 less hours of “work”, free booze, and free baseball. Call me crazy but, for a work day, it doesn’t get a whole lot better than that.

What day is it again?

I morning I've been thinking that it's Tuesday. I was talking with Brian about my excitement for our softball league opening on Thursday, I said something about it being two days from now and he reminded me that it's tomorrow because today is in fact Wednesday. Is there a better feeling than that? All day you're thinking that you still have a long week ahead you, come to find out you're almost done. One day closer to the weekend. Also I'm only 14,042 days away from retirement instead of 14,043. That's only 2006 weeks! And since Wednesday already half way over I only 337,003 and a half minutes left in my career. It's ticking away so fast! Where does the time go? 20,220,480 seconds, 20,220,479 seconds, 20,220,478 seconds. Relaxation here I come. Life is good.

Someone jam a pencil in my eye please

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a little blurb about how much I hate writing resumes. I still hate doing that, but I've found something worse, my "personal statement" for a graduate school application. Here is what I'm suppossed to be writing:

Write a brief (1,000-2,000 word) statement addressing the following two questions:

1. What are your reasons for undertaking graduate study at the University of Maryland? Indicate, if appropriate, any specific areas of research interest. You may wish to discuss past work in your intended field and allied fields, your plans for a professional career, or how you developed your interest in or knowledge of your chosen subject.

2. What life experiences you have had that you feel have prepared you to pursue a graduate degree at a large, diverse institution such as the University of Maryland? Among the items you might care to include would be your financial, community and family background, whether you are the first person in your family to pursue a higher education, or any other factors that you feel would contribute to the diversity of our academic community. You may also wish to give the graduate admissions committee some examples of your determination to pursue your goals, your initiative and ability to develop ideas, and /or your capacity for working through problems independently.

Good lord do I hate this crap. What are my reasons for undertaking graduate study? Can't I just say because I like money? Would that fly? I like money, and a graduate degree will make me more money. Do you think the admissions department would respect that answer. In reality though, my company pays for school, shouldn't anyone be admitted when garuanteed money is involved? What have they got to lose? Can I just not go through the motions of the stupid essay and write you a check?

And what's the deal with question 2? Isn't it basically just asking me to tell them that I'm a minority from a poor background who is the only person who has ever gone to college? Are they recruiting for pamphlets with that question?

Anyway, I'm 72 words into my 1,000-2,000 word statement and I'm stuck. I hate this.

For the record: Bananas and Patrick Swayze do not mix well

Despite the title of this blog I haven't been thinking of much lately. I decided the best way to not let the blog die entirely it might be time for my very first guest post. Take itaway Pat:


I recently had knee surgery and for the past two weeks, I have been crutching around with a full length leg brace on. It is amazing how many people ask “wow what did you do to your knee?!” I usually try to come up with a response that makes me seem extremely masculine, adventurous, or my most favorite “the star athlete in my prime”. After weeks of lying, it is time I come clean with the truth.

It all began Halloween of 2005. I was living in New York at the time, and decided to spend a weekend in LA and attend a USC Homecoming football game. Since this coincided with Halloween, I made plans to meet up with my old roommate from college, hot metal, who was at the time living north of LA. Things were working out extremely well. Hot Metal, Dad Metal (one of hot metals buddies) and I met up as the sun was beginning to set. We each pounded a couple 40’s and got our Halloween costumes ready. These costumes came under much debate and deliberation and were not chosen lightly. Originally we thought it would be great to go as a group of penguins, we thought what ladies don’t like a fuzzy penguin. Obviously everyone else had that idea and the store was sold out. Next we thought it would be great to go as a group of giant hands and walk around “giving high fives” and throwing “giant gang signs.” That idea was quickly canned due to the lack of craftsmanship of these giant hands. Our final idea dawned on us like an epiphany. We could be a “bunch of bananas!” Brilliant! We donned our yellow uniforms and made our way to meet up with the rest of the group to begin our night.

We started at the Brass Monkey…a splendid little Karaoke bar in Korea Town, Los Angeles. Hot Metal made his way to the KJ (karaoke Jockey) booth, gave the guy a 20 and a nod, then wrote down our first request of the night “Shes like the Wind, by Patrick Swayzee. You may be most familiar with this song through its class debut in Dirty Dancing. I made a V-line to the booth…high fived the guy, gave him a 20, then began to write down our second hit classic “Escape” by Enrique Englasias. Obviously since we were such kick ass looking dudes, we were called right up to the stage.

The 3 part act began awesomely as always. In fact it was glorious as you can see from this photo




Until this lovely lady in the front row caught my eye. I sang and danced my way to her. “Feel the breath of her face…her body close to me” I was bending backwards…feeling it….she was feeling it…
Then POP!
My knee buckled and I feel to the floor. I wasn’t going to let a little slip and her laughing in my face stop this performance though. I got right back up and finished the song singing to another lady (not as lovely, but lady #1 was definitely jealous)
I started to feel the pain towards the end of the song…hobbled over to the table as the crowd cheered and panties were thrown onto the stage…and sat down nursing my knee. I was ready to go home…after 15 mins of healing my leg…I hear “LETS HEAR IT ONE MORE TIME FOR THE BANANAS…o man…I suck it up and hobble my way up for the conclusion…I am no Brittney Spears canceling my show due to health issues…I am a performer!

I finish my night with “Escape” then leave the stage in a shopping cart one of my buddies found. My buddy nick pushed my all the way home…trying to stop in each bar we passed, only to hear that Korea Town bars don’t like bananas in shopping carts. The other bananas went in the other direction to go bowling.

After I get home I noticed my knee is swollen to twice its size so I take 6 asprin and put ice on it. I lay in the bed…then a call comes in. “Hot Metal is locked in a bowling alley, it closed with him still in the bathroom! What do we do?!?!” They end up finding one of the workers going to his car, have him open the door, and he yells in a Spanish accent “BANANA….WHERE ARE YOU?!!?!?” Hot Metal came sprinting out and they made their way home.

When Hot Metal walks in the door, the D-Bag he can be sprints, and does a pile driver on my knee…doing the ultimate damage. As eyes start to fall asleep…I proclaim “I hate you Hot Metal” and hear the girl he was sleeping next to proclaim “NO TOUCHING!!”

Being on crutches for 3 weeks with a bum knee made that evening memorable!!

I then began to have severe problems with my knee, My knee kept buckling on me and I kept being placed on crutches. Each time was more humiliating than the last. From playing paddle ball with my girlfriends dad on the beach, to walking at work and bending to pick up a sheet of fallen paper, I was a broken man.

I finally had surgery where they removed a piece of chipped bone from my kneecap and gave me a dead guy’s ligament to replace my torn one.

I cant wait to sing Karaoke once more!

Ed. Note: This is likely to be my most popular post ever.

That was Money

I have an imaginary checklist of goals I hope to accomplish before I die. It’s imaginary because A. there is no physical list and B. I don’t actually know what these goals are; usually things get added to the list after the fact because I think they’re awesome. Anyway, I got to add and then mark off an item from the checklist this weekend. I got one ticket to paradise. That ticket allowed me to see one Edward Joseph Mahoney live in concert. That’s right friends, the Eddie Money. It’s hard to imagine anything be more kick ass than seeing Take Me Home Tonight live. Unfortunately Ronnie Spector wasn’t there to complete the original duet, but in her place was a special treat, Eddie’s daughter Jessy. He introduced her as Jessy Money. Really Jessy? You’re trying to have a recording career and you’re using the same fake last name as your dad? That’s pretty lame.

The crowd was an interesting mix to say the least. About 25-30% were people like me and my friends, people in their mid 20’s who enjoy 80’s music, but more than anything enjoy how cheesy it all is. Seriously, I was cracking up the entire time, how could you not? Another 35-40% was hardcore Eddie Money fans. People were buying his albums in the 70’s and 80’s. Just white trash central. There is nothing better than seeing an incredibly trashy woman in her late 40’s who you just know was a crazy Money groupee 25 years ago. I doubt his fans have names, but they really should call themselves Moneyacs. Or Moniacs, whatever it doesn’t matter. I really wanted to buy an Eddie Money t-shirt and immediately cut the sleeves off. They rest of the crowd was there for an entirely different, dreamier reason. The headlining act was Rick Springfield, and there were a lot of older woman there ready to swoon over Dr. Noah Drake. And swoon they did.

One thing was pretty surprising. Eddie Money, despite not putting out a hit record in over 20 years has 6 or 7 recognizable hits that a 26 year old like myself can rock hard to, but one hit wonder Springfield puts on a way better show. And no, he didn’t play Jessy’s Girl on repeat for an hour. It’s pretty easy to see why though. They’re both 57 but Mr. Money has done some hard living in his days. All the drugs and rockstar living has really taken a toll. He’s like a dead man on stage. Although he still had enough life left in him to really nail the requisite 80’s saxophone solo. And I still did a lot of fist pumping. Dr. Drake on the other hand has really been keeping himself together. He was running around like a maniac. I was shocked to find out how old he was. He did half of the concert in the crowd, climbing over seats and playing the guitar while crowd surfing. I was pleasantly surprised with how entertaining it was. I would seriously recommend a Rick Springfield concert; it doesn’t even really matter if you’ve only heard one song of his before.

Throw in Scandal as the opening act and you have a real cheeseball 80’s bonanza. Not quite enough for me to get over missing Huey Lewis and the News last Monday though. That one’s still on the list.